Is Charlie Smarter than a Fifth Grader
by jlm110108
Summary: Charlie Eppes is invited to participate in a TV game show. This was written as part of a Numb3rs gen & het challenge at Live Journal. Thanks to digeediva for betaing this story!


Charlie Eppes hung up the phone, a perplexed look on his face.

Alan walked into the room, carrying a plate of nachos. "Who was that?"

"Fox Television." Charlie's expression brightened as he saw the nachos. "Wow! Thanks, Dad."

Don leaned forward and helped himself to a nacho and a napkin. "Another interview about your book?"

"No," Charlie shook his head. "They want me to be on a game show."

"A game show?" Don laughed, "'Beauty and the Geek?'"

"Ha ha. No," Charlie said, taking a swipe at his big brother's head. "Even worse. They want me to be on a celebrity week of 'Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader?'." He waited impatiently for the laughter to die down.

When he could speak again, Alan said, "I'm sorry ... " He wiped his eyes. "They do know who you are, don't they? They know that you're ten times smarter than any fifth grader, right?"

"In math anyway," Don added.

Charlie glared at Don, turned without another word and went into the kitchen.

Alan set the nachos on a tray table and sat down. "You'd better go apologize."

"For what?" Don was beginning to feel like a fifth grader being scolded by his daddy.

Alan didn't say a word. He just fixed Don with that gaze he had perfected in close to forty years of parenting.

Don sighed, tossed his napkin on the tray table and stood.

Charlie leaned against the counter, his left arm folded across his chest, his right hand holding a bottle of beer. He glanced up when the door opened, and then became intensely interested in the label on the beer bottle.

"Hey, Buddy." Don leaned on the counter next to Charlie. "Sorry."

"For what?" Charlie continued to read the label. He glanced up again with a hint of a smile. "Dad sent you to apologize, right?"

"Right," Don admitted. He reached into the refrigerator and helped himself to a bottle of beer. "But he's right. Listen, everybody knows you're smarter than any fifth grader in any subject. When do you have to film the show?"

Charlie shrugged. "Next week, but I'm not sure if I'm going to do it."

"Why? Don't tell me you couldn't use another million dollars!"

Charlie shook his head. "The money goes to charity. I'm not sure I want to put up with all the crap everybody would give me if I blow it."

"You're not going to blow it."

"Don, I've watched the show. Just this week they had some guy on who was bragging about his two degrees. He even asked Jeff Foxworthy to load the million dollar question because he was going to need it."

"So?"

"The guy blew the second question. It was something like second grade English! And he went home with nothing. Can you imagine how his family and friends reacted to that?"

"Come on. You're smarter than like ninety nine percent of the world's population. You won't blow it like that."

"They told me there won't be any math questions. Just English, geography, history, and science. Oh, and spelling."

"Oh," Don said softly. He took a sip of his beer. "But you can handle fifth grade spelling, can't you?"

"I'll admit I'm not a very good speller, so who knows what will happen. You know if I blow it, the video will be up on YouTube before the show is even over. My students will have a field day with it. The faculty, even the NSA, will know that I'm not as smart as I think I am." He sighed and took a long drink of beer.

"First of all, you are not going to blow it. Second, even if you do," Don hesitated as Charlie glanced at him. "Even IF you do, that doesn't prove anything. Anyone who criticizes you over something that stupid is just jealous."

"You really think so?" Charlie said, his big brown eyes lighting up with hope.

"Sure! Listen, I know you can't spell anomaly, and I still trust you to consult on my cases, right?"

Charlie chuckled. "Right. It's not just because I'm your brother, is it?"

Don laughed. "Nah. It's in spite of being your brother!" Don grabbed a second beer. "Come on. The nachos are getting cold."

As they walked into the living room, Don asked, "So what charity are you going to give the million dollars to?"

"IF I win, I'll donate the money to the MS Society."

"Multiple Sclerosis? That's a great idea, Charlie!" Alan said as the boys sat. "Hey, where's my beer?"

Don laughed, holding up the unopened bottle. "We'd never forget the patriarch of the Eppes clan. Here you go, Pop."

"For me to be a patriarch, I do believe I have to have a tribal line." Alan opened his beer and lifted it in a mock toast. "Instead of a line, I appear to have two dead ends."

"Aw, that's cold, Dad," Don laughed. "Chuckie here seems to be getting pretty serious with a certain hot professor. So don't give up yet."

Charlie's next hurdle was his department head. "Millie?" he said, knocking quietly on her door frame. "Do you have a minute?"

"For you, I have all day," Millie said, smiling broadly. "Come in! Come in! What can I do for you?"

"Well, next week, we're on spring break, and I have an opportunity ... well ..."

"What? A speaking engagement? A top secret consulting gig? Have a seat and tell me!"

Charlie dropped into one of Millie's guest chairs and said, "Well, this is something a little different, so I wanted to run it past you."

Millie closed the book she had been reading, rested her chin on her steepled fingers, and said, "So run it past me."

"I've been invited to be a contestant on a game show. It's their celebrity week, and ... "

"What game show? Jeopardy? Who Wants to be a Millionaire? What?"

Charlie took a deep breath and blurted, "'Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader?'."

"What kind of a question ... Oh!" Millie's eyes widened and she began to laugh. "Oh, dear! I think it's a wonderful idea! That is, if they're going to give you nothing but math and science questions."

"No math questions. They made that clear."

"Oh. In that case ... How much do you stand to win?"

"Up to a million dollars. For the charity of my choice."

"A million? Charlie, that's wonderful! We could endow a scholarship fund, or finance some research ..."

"Whatever I win is going to the Multiple Sclerosis Society," Charlie said softly.

"Not to Cal Sci?" Millie was incredulous. "Have you committed to this yet?"

"I have to let them know by the end of the day. But think of the publicity ..." he trailed off, shaking his head, dreading the negative publicity if he made an early exit.

Millie read his expression. "The publicity will be wonderful. You will be wonderful. Remember, you are the Sean Connery of the math department."

Charlie smiled weakly. "I'll do it."

"Have you considered studying? I have a niece who teaches middle school. I'm sure she'd be more than happy ..."

"I don't need a tutor. I'm a tenured professor ..."

"A tenured professor who does not want to make a fool of himself on national television," Millie added.

"I will not make a fool of myself." Charlie stood to leave. "I DO NOT need a tutor."

"Charles," Larry poked his head into Charlie's office. "I heard a rumor you're taking on a new intellectual challenge."

Charlie stopped writing on the chalkboard and looked over his shoulder. "Who blabbed? Millie? My Dad? Don? I think they're the only people I told."

Larry shrugged. "I heard it from Amita." He squinted at Charlie's calculations. "Interesting," he murmured. "You have to remember the Cal Sci grapevine has been tweaked by some of the greatest minds in the world."

Charlie grinned. "And now it's one of the most efficient channels in the universe."

"I sometimes wonder if the grapevine starts before the event occurs. Perhaps we've stumbled upon the key to traveling between dimensions."

"Well, you go ahead and ponder the link between Cal Sci's rumor mill and wormholes. I have work to do," Charlie said, turning back to his chalkboard.

"You're not studying for next week?" Larry asked.

Charlie pounded his fist on the board, smearing a part of his equation. "Not you, too. I can handle elementary school work, Lawrence."

Larry shrugged and leaned back in the chair. "Okay. I believe you. What is the only US capital that is further south than Miami? Austin, Texas, Sacramento, California or Honolulu, Hawaii?"

"Miami isn't the capital of Florida."

"That wasn't the question."

Charlie scowled as he thought. "It's gotta be Honolulu."

Larry grinned and nodded. "Very good. Maybe you can do it without embarrassing yourself."

Amita walked into the office and dropped her books on Charlie's desk. "Hi," she said, approaching Charlie and planting a kiss on his cheek. "How's it going?"

Charlie turned, his expression softening. "Hey." He gave her a kiss. "I hear you've been spreading rumors about me."

Amita glanced guiltily at Larry, then nodded. "Millie told me. I didn't know it was a secret."

Charlie smiled and hugged her. "It's not. I'm just amazed at how fast the news traveled. Hey," he said, stepping back, "you're not here to talk me into getting tutored, are you?"

"No! Not at all! You'll do great. As long as you avoid spelling questions."

Charlie shook his head and turned back to his work. "Et tu, Amita?"

His fax machine beeped and began spitting out sheets of paper. Amita, being closer to the machine, picked up the papers and brought them to Charlie. She grinned as she handed them to him. "It looks like it's an application for the show."

Charlie glanced at the papers and set them on the desk. "They told me they'd be sending a questionnaire and some legalese forms for me to sign. I'll fill it out later. I really need to finish this."

Larry leaned across the desk and picked up the forms. "I am just curious about what kind of questionnaire you have to fill out to be on a game show." He flipped to the second page. "Now this is an interesting question. Charlie, what kind of personality would you say you have?"

Charlie gave a resigned sigh, put his chalk down and sat down at his desk. "Okay, if we take a few minutes – emphasis on few – to fill this out, will you let me finish my work?"

Amita and Larry nodded, and pulled their chairs to Charlie's side of the desk. "You haven't answered Larry's question. What kind of a personality do you have?"

"I ... I honestly don't know. I guess maybe stubborn?" He looked questioningly at his two closest friends. "What do you think?"

Larry filled in the answer. "I think that's a valid response."

"Well, thank you for that affirmation, Professor Fleinhardt." Charlie waited for Larry to finish writing and pulled the papers away from him. "What else do we have here?" He skimmed over the vital statistics section of the questionnaire. "I can fill in this height, weight, age stuff later. How about this? 'Closest friend (locally) and from your home town?'"

"Larry, definitely," Amita said. "But from your home town? I don't know."

Charlie grinned. "Don. It doesn't say it can't be a relative."

"Okay," Amita watched him write his answers, then read the next question, "They want your phone number, Larry. Good thing you kept that cell phone you got so NASA could keep in touch with you."

Charlie scrawled Larry's cell phone number, then went back to reading. "More stuff about family. Here we go, 'interests.' Hiking, air hockey ... "

"Math," Amita supplied.

"I think they know that already. Ah, here's a question for you two. 'How would your friends describe you?'"

"How many pages can you use?" Amita's eyes twinkled. "Let's see. ... sweet, handsome ..."

"Obsessive, yet easily distracted," Larry continued. "Loyal, devoted ..."

"Loyal? Devoted? I am not a dog, Lawrence. But 'obsessive?' It's been years since I've locked myself in the garage to tackle an unsolvable problem."

Larry shrugged. "All right, scratch obsessive. How about intense?"

"Ooh, I like that one. Add that to the list," Amita said.

Charlie rolled his eyes, but did as Amita asked. "Okay, here's the next one. Hmm. This is interesting. 'Even though it's not true, people always assume about me:'." He paused then wrote, "That I'm weak."

Larry nodded. "That is true, but only for people who don't really know you. You are one of the strongest people I know."

"I am now," Charlie murmured. "I wasn't always."

"You've grown a lot in the years we've known each other," Larry said, smiling.

Charlie blushed as he looked back at the paper. "There's still room for growth. Okay, how about this? 'How competitive are you" If you are a gambler, tell us one of the biggest risks

you've taken.'"

Amita laughed. "Does taking Agent Edgerton's muffin count?"

Charlie nodded. "I would say so. I'm going to put, 'Stealing food from an FBI sniper.' That'll make the producer wonder."

They laughed together as they filled out the application. Then Charlie came to one of the last questions. "'What is your greatest accomplishment?'"

"It has to be the Eppes Convergence," Larry said.

Amita agreed. "Or maybe having a book on the best seller's list?"

Charlie shook his head as he glanced at his two friends. "Nah. Neither." He leaned over and kissed Amita on the cheek. "My greatest accomplishment is finding people who continue to love me in spite of everything I do to screw things up."

The following Tuesday, Charlie arose at the crack of dawn, feeling more than a little nervous. Amita stirred and blinked sleepily at him. "Hey," he said softly. "Time to rise and shine."

"Today's the big day," she murmured. "How are you feeling?"

"Nervous," he admitted. "Maybe I should have done a little studying ..."

"You'll do fine."

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Charlie? Are you awake?"

"Yes, I am, Dad. Thanks!"

"I'll go start breakfast," Alan's voice faded as he walked down the hallway.

When Charlie and Amita arrived in the dining room, Alan had set out a veritable feast. "I hope you're hungry. I've got juice, coffee, bagels, cream cheese, lox – fish is brain food, you know."

Charlie chuckled as he held Amita's chair for her. "I need all the help I can get!"

Alan patted Charlie on the shoulder as he reached for his coffee cup. "You'll do fine. Just relax."

"Easy for you to say. You're not going to embarrass yourself on national television."

"Neither are you," Alan scolded. "Besides, it's just a game. It's not exactly a life or death situation. Just have fun! If you do screw up – and I'm not saying you're going to – don't let it bother you. If you can laugh about it, everyone will laugh with you, not at you."

Charlie smeared cream cheese on a bagel and topped it with a generous slice of lox. He caught Amita grinning at him and shrugged. "Hey, it can't hurt!"

The brain food didn't hurt, but as Charlie pulled into the studio parking lot, he began to wonder if he should have had the three cups of coffee. His hands were shaking, and his voice cracked as he gave his name to the guard at the gate. Amita squeezed his arm and murmured, "You'll do fine."

"What? I'm not nervous. It's the coffee," Charlie insisted.

"Yeah, right," Alan scoffed from the back seat. "All the coffee you drink, I haven't heard your voice squeak like that since you hit puberty."

Charlie sighed as he pulled into the parking spot. "You're right. I'm scared half to death. It's crazy. I've been shot at. I've been run off the road by a kidnapper. I certainly should be able to take on fifth graders."

"That's the spirit!" Amita giggled. "Come on, let's go in! Charlie Eppes, you ARE smarter than a fifth grader!"

Charlie laughed as he helped his father out of the back seat. "I did enjoy watching the episodes they sent me."

"And you got most of the questions right," Alan said.

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I would have gotten them all right if I'd been paying attention."

"Then I guess you'd better pay attention today." Alan turned and watched as an SUV pulled into the lot. "I think the rest of your fans are here."

Once they were inside the studio, Charlie was taken away. Alan, Amita, Don, and Larry were brought to a waiting room with the friends and family members of the other contestants. After they were briefed on what would happen during the show, they had time to sit and chat and speculate.

Finally, it was time to start the taping. Charlie was going to be on first, so his friends and family were shown to their seats in the front row. The theme music started, and Jeff Foxworthy jogged onto the set, taking his place between the two podiums.

Then as the audience applauded, the five fifth graders ran through the set, tossing jackets and backpacks into cubbies that lined the walls, and took their seats at their desks.

"Hi! I'm Jeff Foxworthy, and I'm trying to give away a million dollars. All someone has to do is prove they are smarter than a fifth grader. This is my class: Mackenzie, Joel, Sierra, Benny, and Paul. All right, guys, are you ready to meet our new student? This week, we're doing something a little different. Our contestants are celebrities, and they're still playing for a million dollars, but instead of getting to keep their winnings, the money is being donated to the charity of their choice. Our first contestant is a thirty three year old professor, Dr. Charles Eppes."

Charlie jogged through the set, grinning and waving. He stopped and high-fived his classmates, then took his place behind his podium. Don leaned over and whispered to Alan, "They must have told him to do that."

"I'm sure they did. I haven't seen him grinning that much since ... well, I can't remember the last time I saw him grinning like that."

Jeff shook Charlie's hand, "Welcome, Charlie! Well, Charlie, here, is a professor of applied mathematics at the California Institute of Science. And, he's the author of the best selling book, THE ATTRACTION EQUATION.." Jeff held up a copy of Charlie's book and then turned it to read the subtitle, "'Being Popular Is as Easy as Pi,' eh, professor?"

Charlie shrugged. "The title was the publisher's idea. They thought it had more zazz than my original title 'Mathematical Analysis of Friendship Dynamics'."

Jeff laughed. "Yeah, that's definitely got more – what did you call it? -- zazz?"

"Yeah. I'm guessing it's short for pizzazz. That's the term my publisher used, anyway. My title is actually a better description of the content."

"I'm sure it is. Publishers don't go for accuracy as much as ... zazz. So," Jeff pointed at the screen on the opposite wall, "I'm guessing this cute little guy with the big smile and the curls is you in the fifth grade at Pasadena Elementary."

"Yes, it is," Charlie said blushing slightly.

"So, class, I gotta tell you that your new classmate is something of a math genius. He was actually able to multiply four digit numbers in his head when he was only three years old!"

The fifth graders erupted in shouts of "Whoa!" and "No way!"

"So, Charlie, what does a fifth grader who can multiply four digit numbers in his head study in fifth grade arithmetic?"

"Well, by state law, I had to take the normal classes, but I had tutors working with me on more advanced subjects."

"So, you were sitting next to little Johnny who was having trouble with things like factors, and you were studying, what, calculus?"

"Pretty much," Charlie said. "And little Johnny was not happy unless I was letting him copy off my paper."

"I do understand that you're not very good at spelling."

Charlie rolled his eyes, "So I'm guessing I get ten spelling questions? It'll be a really short show."

Jeff laughed. "We wouldn't be that mean. After all, it's for charity. All right," Jeff said, "let me tell you how this particular test works. On the board, you're going to see ten subjects. If, at any point, you want to stop taking the test, you can drop out with the money you've acquired, and you can leave this classroom. But before you go, you're gonna have to promise me you'll do one thing. You need to look into the camera and tell millions of people that you went to Princeton at the ripe ol' age of thirteen, but you are NOT smarter than a fifth grader."

"I promise," Charlie said, shaking Jeff's hand.

The game categories appeared on the screen, two subjects for each grade, first through fifth. Charlie studied the list, then laughed. The left hand column contained first through fifth grade spelling. "I thought you said you weren't going to be mean."

"Hey, you've got five other subjects. First grade animal science, second grade music, third grade world history, fourth grade art and fifth grade social studies."

Charlie turned to his classmates. "I hope you guys are good spellers!"

The kids all shook their heads no.

"Well, Jeff, it looks like I'll be leaving here with 25,000."

"Hey, it can't be that bad, Charlie. You can handle first grade spelling, can't you?"

"We'll see." Charlie was beginning to look a little worried.

"So, just to motivate you, Charlie, what charity are you playing for today?"

"The Multiple Sclerosis Society."

"That's a great cause. Now, before we get started, why don't I tell you about the ways your classmates can help you with the overwhelming challenge of first grade spelling? First, you can peek at your partner's paper, and decide whether to use their answer or not. Second, you can copy – but that means you have to take their answer, right or wrong. Finally, you have your save. If you get the answer wrong, and your partner has it right, you get to use his answer. Of course, if your partner can't spell cat either, you're out of luck."

"I can spell cat, Jeff," Charlie said with just a trace of annoyance.

"Ohhhhkay. On that note, why don't we get started. Go ahead and pick a classmate to help you for the first round."

Charlie turned to look at the kids, waving their hands and yelling, "Pick me! Pick me!"

"Okay, who's good at spelling?" Charlie said, laughing. One little girl kept her hand up. "Okay, Mackenzie!"

Mackenzie let out a whoop and ran to take her place behind the other podium. She paused to give Charlie a high five.

Charlie leaned down. "You sure you're good at spelling?" he asked.

"Yep. The best in my class!"

"Okay," Charlie turned to Jeff. "We're going to go straight to the top and take fifth grade spelling."

"Whoa," Jeff said, turning to Mackenzie, "you sure you're that good?"

The little girl shrugged eloquently. "We'll see. I just wanted to get picked first."

Charlie rolled his eyes as Jeff read the question, "Okay, class, spell 'extravagant.'"

Mackenzie wrote her answer quickly, then pressed the button to lock in her answer, then stood watching Charlie.

Jeff said, "She seems pretty sure of her answer. What do you think, Charlie?"

"She does. Okay, extravagant – e-x-t-r-a-v-e-g-e-n-t." He lifted his hand to push the lock in button.

"Uh, Charlie? You sure, there? You do have your cheats left."

"I'm sure," Charlie said, smacking the button to lock in his answer. He heard his father groaning behind him and winced. "Mackenzie? You can rescue me, right?"

Mackenzie clapped her hand over her mouth, and looked at Charlie with big, worried eyes.

Jeff consulted the card in his hand. "Charlie, what was your SAT score?"

"Fourteen hundred. A perfect eight hundred in math, and six hundred in verbal. Why?"

"That explains a lot. Charlie, extravagant is spelled e-x-t-r-a-v-a-g-a-n-t. Now your fate is in the hands of a ten year old. Show us Mackenzie's answer!" 'Extravagant' was displayed on the screen. "All right! You have rescued a genius!"

Charlie turned to Mackenzie, and dropped to his knees to give her a bear hug. "Thank you, Mackenzie!" he said.

She giggled and returned his hug. "You're welcome!"

Jeff announced a commercial break, and Charlie turned around to shrug at his father. "I'll be more careful next time, Dad. Don't worry."

Don laughed. "You'd better, Buddy. They're going to rescind your degrees if you don't watch it."

"Hah hah," Charlie said.

The producer's voice came over the speakers. "Okay, we're back in five… four… three…"

"And we are back! Our genius guest, Professor Charles Eppes, has proven that at least in fifth grade spelling he is NOT smarter than a fifth grader. So, Charlie, what would you like to try next?"

Charlie took a deep breath and turned to Mackenzie. "You up to a fourth grade spelling question, partner?"

Mackenzie giggled. "Yes, sir!"

"Okay, Jeff! We will go with fourth grade spelling!"

"Getting the vegetables out of the way so you can save dessert for last?"

"Something like that."

"Okay, Professor Eppes, your fourth grade spelling word is governor."

Mackenzie wrote quickly and then hit the lock-in button.

"All right, Charlie. It's up to you. Your ten year old partner seems pretty sure of her answer. What say you?"

Charlie's brow furrowed in concentration. "This should be easy. But I'm wondering if it's governOR or governER. It sounds like governER, but I'm thinking that's not right. Okay. I'm going to say g-o-v-e-r-n-o-r." His hand hovered over the button.

"Are you sure, Charlie? What would it look like for a genius to miss the two thousand dollar question and go home with nuthin'? You have your peek and your copy left."

Charlie gnawed his lip and turned to Mackenzie, hoping to read her expression. She glanced at him, then looked away. He sighed. "Math is so consistent, so simple to understand. The English language, on the other hand, is bizarre. The only rule is there is no rule." He glanced again at Mackenzie. "I'll peek." He pushed the lock-in button.

Mackenzie's answer flashed on the screen. "All right," Jeff said, "Mackenzie agrees with you, Charlie. She's written g-o-v-e-r-n-o-r. Do you want to change your answer?"

"Mackenzie has saved me once. I'm going to assume she knows what she's talking about. I'll stay with g-o-v-e-r-n-o-r." He pressed the lock-in button.

Jeff looked at Mackenzie. "Mackenzie, you seemed pretty sure of your answer. Your partner was hesitant. What do you make of that?"

Mackenzie studied Charlie carefully and then said, "He's just over-thinking, Mr. Foxworthy. He should trust his instincts."

Jeff and Charlie erupted in laughter, along with the audience. Charlie finally said, "Mackenzie, that's excellent advice!"

Jeff shook his head. "Well, I don't know what to say at this point. The two of you are absolutely right!"

Charlie and Mackenzie high-fived and Mackenzie ran back to her seat.

"All right, Charlie, why don't you introduce us to your cheering section?"

"The beautiful woman is Amita, the love of my life and an esteemed colleague. Next to her is Larry, my best friend and mentor. Beside him is my brother, Don. Then last but not least is my father, Alan."

"I understand Don is in law enforcement," Jeff said.

"He is. He's an FBI agent here in LA."

"We'd better watch ourselves then. And I understand Larry has had some excitement in his life recently."

"Yes, he just came back from a visit on the International Space Station."

"Wow! That is impressive. And Alan, I hear there's one game where you routinely beat your genius son."

"Yes, Jeff," Alan said, grinning. "Charlie stinks at Scrabble."

"Why am I not surprised?" Jeff said. "All right, Charlie, which classmate will be your next partner? You still have three more spelling questions, and Mackenzie was the only one who admitted to being good at spelling."

The remaining students were waving their hands and saying, "Pick me!"

Charlie studied them carefully. "Let me see. We've gotten rid of the tough spelling questions. Who can handle the first, second and third grade spelling?"

"Me! Me!" the four remaining students shouted.

"Good! Uh… Let me see… Joel!"

The curly headed boy with thick glasses let out a whoop, ran to the podium, and shook hands with Charlie.

Alan leaned over to Don and whispered, "He's the spittin' image of Charlie, isn't he?"

"He is. You think Chuck has a secret family we're not aware of?"

"So, Joel," Jeff said, "are you up to the task?"

"I hope so, Mr. Foxworthy. I'm not the best speller, but I think I can handle second grade stuff."

Charlie laughed. "I guess I'll need to take second grade spelling."

"Second grade spelling it is. After the break!"

During the commercial, Charlie walked over to Amita. He took her hands in his and gave her a kiss.

"Your hands are sweating," Amita said.

"Not for long," Charlie said, "I'll be completely dehydrated by the time we finish the spelling questions."

"You're doing great," she said, cradling his chin. "Oops, sorry. I don't want to mess up your makeup."

"That's okay," Charlie said. "I can't wait until I can wash my face. I don't know how women wear this stuff all the time."

"Okay, Charlie," Jeff said, "we're about to come back from commercial."

Charlie took his place and waited nervously.

"All right! We're back. Our Cal Sci professor and best selling author, Professor Charles Eppes, has won two thousand dollars, and is about to try for five thousand dollars for the MS Society. The bad news is, he'll have to master a second grade spelling question to do it. Okay, Charlie, your spelling word is pray. Let me give you a sentence to go with that word. Charlie Eppes should be sure to pray before attempting to spell this word."

Joel wrote quickly and slammed the lock-in button.

"Okay, Charlie, you still have one cheat left. You can copy Joel's paper."

"I won't need to do that, Jeff. P-r-a-y." Charlie raised his hand to press the button.

"You seem awfully sure of that, Charlie. But, remember, you were sure you had extravagant right. You don't really want to go home with nothing for your charity and the ridicule of your friends and colleagues, do you ?"

Charlie hesitated, pondering. "No, I don't, Jeff. But I am certain of this. I'll lock it in," he said, pushing the button.

"Well, class, you saw Charlie make a quick decision before and he was wrong. But then he took time and he was right. Mackenzie, you said he was over-thinking. Do you think your former partner made the right decision this time?"

Mackenzie bit her lip and shrugged. Charlie began to look worried.

"Well," Jeff continued, "he did! P-r-a-y is the correct spelling of pray. Charlie, you're up to five thousand dollars. Let me see if I can guess which question you're going for next. Third grade spelling?"

"You got it, Jeff," Charlie said. "I seem to be on a roll. Besides, I think it makes sense to get these out of the way while I still have my cheats."

"That would make sense, except if you're going to need more cheats, taking the questions in a different order isn't going to make any difference."

Charlie grinned. "Good point. I'll still go with third grade spelling."

"All right, Charlie. Now here's a good one for you. Spell intelligent."

Charlie stared forward, murmuring, "Intelligent… intelligent," while Joel wrote his answer and hit the button. "Okay. Intelligent. I-n-t-e-l-l-i-g…. e…. I'm pretty sure it's e this time … n-t. I-n-t-e-l-l-i-g-e-n-t. I'll lock it in," he said, hitting the button.

"You know you've already used your save, so Joel can't help you if you're wrong."

"I'm aware of that, Jeff."

"Well, it's a good thing you're right then! You have ten thousand dollars! Now, you need to pick a new classmate."

Charlie watched the three remaining students, raising their hands and begging him to pick them. "It's too bad my college students aren't this enthusiastic. All right, I'll choose Sierra!"

The tiny blonde skipped to the podium, stopping to give Charlie a high five.

Charlie leaned over and asked, "So, Sierra, what are you good at?"

Sierra studied the categories and said, "I like animal science and art."

"No spelling?" Charlie asked. "Not even first grade?"

Sierra shook her head vehemently. "You're on your own with spelling!"

"Uh oh," Charlie said. "I guess we'd better go for first grade animal science."

"You're not going to tackle that last spelling question?"

"Not yet. I have to work with the strengths of my partner, Jeff."

"All right. I should tell you at this point that you're playing for twenty five thousand dollars. Now this is an important point in the game. Up until this point, if you got a question wrong, you'd go home with nothing. If you get this question right, the minimum your charity will receive will be twenty five thousand dollars. So you can screw up that first grade spelling question and still have something for the MS Society."

Charlie grinned. "That's great. Sierra, you ready?"

"I'm ready!"

The question appeared on the screen, and Jeff read it: "The koala is native to what country?"

Sierra wrote her answer and hit the button.

"That was pretty fast, Charlie. What do you think?"

"Well, that is a first grade question, and Sierra is a very smart fifth grader."

"And you're a pretty smart professor. So, what is your answer?"

"The koala is native to Australia. I'll lock it in."

"Well, Charlie," Jeff drawled, "have you ever been to Australia?"

"I have, Jeff. I went there a few years ago for a math conference. And I flew on Qantas."

Jeff chuckled, "I remember those Qantas commercials with the koala. Charlie, you are now up to twenty five thousand dollars! After this break, you'll be playing for fifty thousand!"

"Well, Professor Charles Eppes, world renowned mathematician, best-selling author, and consultant to about every federal agency anybody's ever heard of, and a few they haven't, is hanging in there so far. Charlie, what on earth does a mathematician do for agencies like the FBI and NSA?"

"I've done all sorts of things, some of which I can actually tell you about without having to kill you. I've helped the FBI narrow down lists of suspects, predict where a criminal will strike next, read data off of damaged computers, decode strings of numbers that look meaningless to non-mathematicians ... "

"Now I wouldn't think math was that useful."

Charlie rolled his eyes and glanced back at his family. "My brother used to think like you. It took a couple of years, but I've managed to convert him."

"Well, we don't have a couple of years, so I'll just have to take your word for it. So, you're going for fifty thousand dollars now. What subject would you like to try?"

"Sierra said she was good at art, so we'll go with fourth grade art."

Sierra jumped up and pumped her fist. "Woooo!"

"For fifty thousand dollars, the fourth grade art question is: Mary Cassatt was one of the most famous female painters during the impressionist movement. What country was she born in?"

Sierra hesitated for a moment, then wrote her answer and hit the button.

"Uh oh, Charlie, I think your partner was a little unsure of herself. Where do you think Mary Cassatt was from?"

"Believe it or not, Jeff, I do know this one. Mary Cassatt was from the United States. And I'll lock it in." He pushed the button.

"You're awfully sure of yourself, Charlie. How did you manage to learn about impressionist artists?"

Charlie grinned at Amita. "Amita and I went to an exhibition of Mary Cassatt's paintings last year."

Jeff laughed, "Sounds like the little lady dragged you to the museum. Am I right?"

Charlie shrugged. "I'll take the fifth."

"Smart man. Well, you are right! Next time Amita wants to drag you to some cultural thing, you'd better take her up on it."

"Oh, I will!"

"All right, Sierra has to go back to her seat. Pick your next partner!"

"I think I'll go with Benny."

Benny ran to the podium and gave Charlie a high five before taking his place behind the podium.

"So, Benny," Jeff said, "what subjects are you good at?"

Benny glanced from the screen to Charlie. "I like math."

"Me too," Charlie sighed.

"Well, you're both out of luck. You got first grade spelling, second grade music, third grade world history and fifth grade social studies."

Benny and Charlie both sighed. Finally, Benny said, "I play the piano, so I guess I could do music."

"Music it is," Charlie said.

"Okay, for one hundred thousand dollars, How many finger buttons are there on a standard orchestral trumpet?"

"Well, Benny," Jeff said, "you play piano. Do you know about trumpets?"

Benny shrugged and hit the lock-in button.

"Well, Charlie, your partner is playing his cards close to the vest. What do you think?"

"There are three buttons on a standard orchestral trumpet, Jeff," Charlie said, hitting the button.

"Don't tell me that besides everything else you've done, you play the trumpet with the symphony."

Charlie laughed. "Not hardly. My parents made me try an instrument in fourth grade. I picked the trumpet. It lasted a week."

"Well, you may have flunked out as a trumpeter, but you know your buttons. You have one hundred thousand dollars for your charity!"

"Yes!" Charlie pumped his fist. "That is incredible, Jeff!"

"You ready to try for one hundred seventy five dollars, Charlie?"

"Definitely." He turned to Benny. "Any of the other subjects look good to you?"

Benny grinned. "We could try the first grade spelling."

"I guess between the two of us we can handle a first grade word. Okay, Jeff, first grade spelling it is!"

"Okay, Charlie. I can't believe it takes a fifth grader and a college professor to handle a first grade spelling word, but here goes. Dr. Eppes, professor of applied mathematics at the California Institute of Science, spell golf."

Charlie laughed out loud. "Oh, man, Jeff, I think my dad and brother must have put you up to that."

"Why is that?" Jeff asked.

"They have been trying to teach me how to play golf, and I have to admit I'm even worse at golf than I am at spelling." He glanced at Benny, "You got your answer, partner?" Benny nodded, and Charlie said, "Jeff, golf is spelled g-o-l-f, and I will lock it in." He hit the button.

Jeff heaved a deep sigh. "You were awfully quick on that one. But if worst comes to worst, you always have that twenty five thousand dollars." He grinned at Charlie, "But you were right! You've got one hundred seventy five thousand dollars for your charity and only two questions to go before you tackle the million dollar question."

After the commercial break, Paul, the only remaining classmate, joined Charlie at the podium. "So, Paul," Charlie said, "I hope you're good at world history and social studies."

"I'm pretty good at social studies. Not as good at world history."

"Okay, let's try fifth grade social studies. You ready to bail me out, buddy?"

Paul grinned. "Yeah."

"All right, here you go," Jeff said. "To become a United States senator, a person must be at least how many years old?"

Paul wrote quickly and hit the button.

Charlie pursed his lips and stared at the screen. "Well, to be president you have to be thirty five. I don't think senators have to be that old. I'm thinking they have to be at least thirty. But I'm not sure."

"You still have your copy left. Paul wrote his answer pretty quickly."

"I know. My other question is a fourth grade world history question, and Paul said he wasn't as good at world history." Charlie took a deep breath. "I'm going to copy Paul's answer." He hit the button to lock in his response.

"You're going to put your fate in the hands of a nine year old."

"Yes, I am. He's studied this subject a lot more recently than I have, Jeff."

"Very true. Well, before we check Paul's answer, let's see what the rest of the class said." The screen showed four answers. "They all said thirty. And they're all right. But Paul's answer is the only one that counts at this point. And Paul said ... thirty! Charlie Eppes, you have three hundred thousand dollars for the Multiple Sclerosis Society."

"Yes!" Charlie cheered and grabbed Paul in a bear hug. "Thank you, Buddy! You did it!"

"Now you have only one more question, and no cheats left. So we'll send Paul back to his seat, and you will have to face fourth grade world history all by yourself. Your classmates will not be able to help you. Let me remind you, you can see the question, and either answer it or drop out. If you drop out, you will have three hundred thousand dollars for your charity. If you stay in but get the question wrong, you will have twenty five thousand dollars for your charity. Are you ready?"

"I'm ready."

"Good. We'll see the question after the commercial."

Charlie paced around the podium, glancing at his family. Larry had his eyes closed and appeared to be praying or meditating. Amita blew him a kiss, Alan gave him a thumbs up, and Don yelled in a very bad Rob Schneider imitation, "You can do it!"

When they came back from the commercial, Jeff said, "Well, Charlie, you're on your own to answer a fourth grade world history question for five hundred thousand dollars. Here we go. Who explored the northeast coast of north America in 1497? A. Marco Polo, B. John Cabot or C. Henry Hudson?"

Charlie stared at the screen, gnawing his lower lip. "Well, I know it wasn't Marco Polo. He went to China. There's a Hudson River in New York, and Hudson Bay in eastern Canada. But for some reason, I'm thinking Hudson was later." He gave Jeff a sly grin. "I do tend to remember numbers. I'm thinking Cabot was shortly after Columbus."

"You can drop out and take the three hundred thousand. You're a mathematician. Tell me the difference between three hundred thousand for your charity and twenty five thousand."

"I'd rather think about the difference between three hundred thousand and five hundred thousand. I'm going to say B, John Cabot. And I'll lock it in." He pressed the button.

"You're a brave, brave man, Charlie Eppes. And you're right!"

Charlie covered his mouth with both hands and stood, stunned. "I don't believe it," he murmured.

"Well, believe it. Now you're going where very few have gone before. You're about to see the subject of the million dollar question. Once you see the subject, you will be given the chance to drop out with half a million dollars for your charity, or see the question. Once you see the question, there is no turning back. If you get it right, you will be the first contestant in the history of this show to win a million dollars. If you get it wrong, you go home with twenty five thousand dollars."

Charlie nodded. "Okay. Let's see the subject."

"Impatient, aren't you?"

"Yeah. A little bit."

"Okay, the subject is social studies."

Charlie glanced at his family. Larry had opened his eyes and was gazing peacefully at Charlie, a slight smile playing around his lips. Amita had her hand over her mouth and was staring wide-eyed at Charlie. Alan was giving him an encouraging smile and Don was grinning at him. Charlie took a deep breath, let it out slowly and turned back to face Jeff. "I'll go for it, Jeff."

"You realize there's no turning back."

Charlie nodded.

"You needed the help of a nine year old to answer the last social studies question."

"I understand that. The odds are not in my favor. But I learned a while back that gambling is not just about the odds. Show me the question," he said, slamming his hand down on the button.

"All right. I guess twenty five thousand dollars is a decent amount of money. Okay, here's your question. How many people signed the Declaration of Independence?"

Charlie blinked and shook his head. "I ... oh man ... How many people ... "

"You said you were good at remembering numbers."

Charlie nodded. "I did say that, didn't I? Well, as you said, there's no turning back. I'm just delaying, hoping that something will trigger my memory. So far, nothing's triggering anything, unfortunately."

"Well, Charlie, this is only a one hour show."

Charlie took another deep breath and closed his eyes. "I'm going to say fifty six people signed the Declaration of Independence." Without opening his eyes, he hit the button.

"Charlie? Open your eyes," Jeff said. "You know we've never had anyone get the million dollar question right?"

"I know," Charlie nodded.

"Never. Until now! Charles Eppes, you ARE smarter than a fifth grader!"

"You're kidding! That was the right answer?"

"I'm not kidding. That was the right answer. I guess you weren't kidding when you said you remember numbers. Class! Come on and congratulate your classmate!"

Charlie dropped to his knees and hugged the swarm of fifth graders. "Thank you," he said over and over.

When they cut to a commercial, Charlie looked up to see his family and dearest friends standing over him. He gave the kids one last hug and stood. "I don't believe it," he said as Amita hugged him.

"I do," she murmured. "I always knew you were smarter than a fifth grader."

Alan laughed. "You even got the spelling questions right."

"With a little help," Don added, receiving a scowl from Charlie.

The producer escorted them backstage. "Congratulations, Charlie! We just need to discuss the releases you signed, and then we'll let you go."

"The non-disclosure agreement?" Charlie asked.

"Yep. The show won't be airing for three weeks, so until it airs, you're prohibited from revealing how you did. If you violate the agreement, your charity won't receive the money. Are you good at keeping a secret?"

Charlie exchanged glances with Don and laughed. "Yes, I am. Otherwise I wouldn't have clearance at the national security level."

"Wow. I guess you can keep a secret."

"I don't know," Larry said softly. "He's never had to keep a secret from Mildred Finch before."

The following day, Charlie stood at the white board in his office, deeply involved the work he had started for Don. Someone touched his shoulder, and he jumped, turning around. "Millie! How are you?"

"So, how'd it go?"

"Fine," Charlie said, turning back to his work. "I can't discuss the results until the show airs."

"Oh, come on. You can tell me," Millie cajoled. "I can keep a secret."

Charlie tried in vain to keep from laughing out loud. "I'm sorry. I seem to remember how quickly a certain tidbit of news traveled around campus. As I recall, I had barely gotten back to my office when Larry came to see if the rumor was true that I was going to be on a game show."

"Well, I didn't know that was a secret. You tell me it's a secret and my lips are sealed."

"Sorry," Charlie shook his head. "You'll have to wait and watch the show in three weeks like everyone else. I signed a non-disclosure agreement."

"What's the worst that could happen if you tell me?"

"The charity would lose ... " Charlie started to answer, but caught himself and smiled. "I could be sued for three times the highest possible prize."

"You could be sued for three million dollars? Even if you won nothing?"

"Yes."

Millie shook her head. "Doesn't seem fair, does it?"

"No, it doesn't, but that was the agreement I signed."

"All right," Millie sighed. "I'll wait three weeks. Unless, of course, your father, brother, Larry and Amita could be induced to tell me."

"Sorry. They signed the same agreement I did. They had to, or they wouldn't be allowed to stay for the taping."

Three weeks later, a standing room only crowd gathered in Charlie's house to watch his trials and triumphs. When the show finished, Millie pulled Charlie into a hug. "Congratulations! It's too bad you didn't give the million dollars to Cal Sci. Perhaps we can talk you into trying out for some other game show."

Alan asked, "How about Jeopardy?'"

Don laughed, "I've got the perfect show for Charlie."

"Do I dare ask?" Charlie looked worried.

"Sure, Buddy. I think you should audition for the next round of American Idol. You should hear this guy singing in the shower. I'm surprised the neighbors haven't filed a complaint."

"Nah," Amita said, "He's too old. I think the maximum age is twenty eight."

"I know," Colby said, "Can't you just see Charlie on Survivor?"

"Survivor?" Charlie shuddered. "No way. I barely survived fifth grade."


End file.
